


Shine Bright As Your Eyes

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Flirting, Libraries, M/M, Professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: It's not like Cullen's never been in a library before. He knows the basic rules. Not shouting, not eating, definitely no dog-earing the pages. He didn't forget the no falling asleep and drooling on the books rule, but hey, sometimes things happen.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katewonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katewonder/gifts).



> Be aware there's some discussion of Cullen's tragic backstory (which is somewhat analogous to what we saw in the game).

Cullen feels the fingers digging into his shoulder before he's fully awake. "Yee-ugh!" He pushes his chair back from the desk and glances up at the man standing above him.

"I think I've let you sleep here long enough," says the man, smiling down. "And the library's closing in twenty minutes."

"Sorry," Cullen says, peeling himself off the book in front of him in the study carrel and wiping it hastily with a sleeve, thanking his lucky stars he'd barely been drooling. "It's been a long day."

Cullen glances around, hoping that no one is seeing this. He takes in the rows upon rows of shelves, but not a single other soul. So, thank the Maker for small blessings.

"Honestly, the semester hasn't even started yet. What on earth could you be studying so intently? You've been here nearly six hours."

Cullen rubs his hands over his face, chasing away the last cobwebby bits of sleep from his head. "Well, so have you."

He feels like an idiot when the man taps his name tag (it says Dorian, Cullen notes) and arches an eyebrow with a chuckle. "I'm gainfully employed here, it would seem, and you didn't answer my question."

"Me too," Cullen says. "Or, I mean, I'm a professor. Will be a professor. Next week, when classes start. Just doing some last minute reading for my first lecture." Now he's feeling himself turn red. The librarian is still smirking, arms folded across his chest. The rather attractive librarian, now that Cullen's had a few moments to notice the sparkle in his eyes and the devastatingly charming mole near his eye.

"Well, Professor, you've got about seventeen more minutes to finish up with... oh dear." He flips up the cover of the book Cullen had the misfortune of falling asleep on. " _Early Pre-Schism Chantry History._ Well, that explains the nap then."

"Yes. Thank you. I mean. Thanks for the warning, I'll leave you to close up. Um. Dorian." Cullen gathers his jacket off the back of the chair and flees into the night.

* * *

A few days later, Cullen steels his nerves before walking back into the library. Behind the desk, there's a woman with a pleasant smile who greets him when he reaches her.

"Can I help you?"

"I was here a few days ago, and I forgot to check out the book I was reading and I was hoping to pick it up today." Cullen realizes that he sounds ridiculous, but whatever she may be thinking doesn't show up on her face.

"All right, I'm sure we can find it. What was it called?"

"Something about Pre-Schism politics in the Chantry. It had a green cover. That's probably not helpful."

Her smile widens. "No, I know exactly the book you're talking about." She points to the end of the circulation desk where the book in question is lying open with an array of coloured tabs sticking out from all sides.

"I can put you on the hold list for it, Professor. Professor… oh, beg your pardon, what was the name?" the woman asks, tapping a few keys at the computer.

"Rutherford. Cullen." He can't help thinking that this is going to end up embarrassing him as well. She's also a librarian, which means she knows the other smart-mouthed librarian with the handsome smile and now she's grinning at him like she knows some deep secret. He fell asleep, he drooled a little, and he probably got caught staring a little, but none of those things were crimes, or particularly shocking. People get sleepy, libraries are temperature-controlled and quiet, and the librarian fantasy has always been alive and well, as far back as there's been rooms full of books with people looking after them. She has to understand that.

"Found you here. Okay, you're all set," she says after a moment, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with the end of her pen. "As soon as the... other borrower returns it, we'll notify you at once." She glances over at the book. "I'm sure he won't be much longer."

Cullen tries to get his thoughts to line up so he can ask what exactly she thinks is going on between him and Dorian and the book they're both interested in, but the awkwardness is becoming unbearable, so he smiles tightly and leaves.

* * *

"Knock, knock."

Cullen looks up from his cramped desk and the final edit of his syllabus. "You said 'knock knock.'"

"I did," says Dorian-the-Librarian, leaning on the doorframe with a familiar green book in his hands. "Book delivery. Not usually a service we provide, but I heard you really needed it, so I felt it was my duty to oblige."

"Thank you, but did you really just say 'knock knock' instead of knocking?"

"If I wanted to knock, I'd have to have already stepped halfway across your office to get to the door, since it's open."

"And it's such a small office, yes, I know. You're not the first person to point it out."

"Before they hired you, this was a storage closet you know," Dorian says.

Cullen motions to the corner of the office behind the door, which Dorian dutifully peeks behind. "Ah. Mops. At least you don't have to share an office? I share with Josephine and she can be awful."

"The other librarian? She seemed quite normal."

"Oh, she is, she's delightful. We get on like a house on fire. I was trying to make you feel better about your mop closet."

Cullen chuckles. "This mop closet has my name on the door, at least. That's a far cry better than where I was before."

"I thought you spelled Rutherford with an 'o'?"

Cullen squints at the nameplate. "Oh, for the love… Well, it's almost got my name on the door."

"I brought you your book," Dorian says, placing the book on the edge of the desk and unceremoniously shoving a notebook out of his way so he could perch next to it. "And since you're teaching the class, I have a few things that I'd like clarification on."

Pre-Schism Chantry Politics and History is a dry subject, no doubt, but Dorian has a few insightful questions and Cullen finds himself drawn into the discussion. He had no illusions going into this new job that the students were going to be bright and alert and challenge every notion he had about the subject, not the least of the reasons being he's got an eight a.m. class and a seven p.m. class. But this is nice. It feels like what he expected college to be like when he was a kid.

"I have to ask -- your accent," Cullen says after a few minutes.

"Yes, I'm from Tevinter." Dorian says it with a flourish, like it comes with an unspoken 'and now you may fawn,' but Cullen sees a ripple of tension as Dorian sits a little further forward on his chair.

"Long way from home." Dorian relaxes a fraction of an inch and Cullen feels a little frisson of satisfaction about that.

"And don't I know it. If I'd have known Ferelden was so…" Dorian motions with one hand around the comically small office with the bare walls and the ragged collection of mops. "So scenic, I would have come ages ago."

Cullen laughs and Dorian smiles back at him, a soft smile that reflects in his eyes. Cullen has to look away after a second, flipping a page in the textbook and pretending to make a note of something before looking back up. Dorian's good looking, obviously, but it's the eye contact that Cullen finds most attractive.

"This office isn't the most shining example of all the best things Ferelden has to offer," Cullen says. He wonders if he's got the nerve to suggest something else, like an offer to show off some real sights.

"Oh, I don't know," Dorian says in a careful, deliberate sort of way, like he's choosing each word carefully and watching for Cullen's reaction. "You might hang a picture or something, but I think it's charming enough in here."

His reaction to that, naturally, is to flush scarlet and focus all of his attention on the pen he picks up to twirl between his fingers. "That's… just what I was about to say, actually."

Dorian chuckles. "So we're on the same page at last. And speaking of pages, do you know anything about Nevarran history? There's a passage about Nevarra being divided again after the Third Blight, and I was entirely unable to track down the source."

It seems like a derailment for a moment, but Dorian's rifling through the text again and Cullen realizes he's actually genuinely interested.

"I don't know much about Nevarra, unfortunately, but I have a good friend who's very knowledgeable. She may actually be Nevarran royalty, come to think of it. She's not always forthcoming about personal details, but I'm fairly certain that's come up."

"You're only fairly certain? Just caught the one glimpse of her sitting on a golden throne of dragon bones in Nevarra City, then?" Dorian snorts.

"She's also a professor here, actually. No thrones, only one tiara."

Cullen's job prospects had been thin on the ground, getting out of the service, so when Cassandra mentioned she could get him on the faculty at the community college, he decided he had less than little to lose. He tells Dorian all of this as they talk.

"The service? Not a tall, blond, and mysterious professor from one of the big universities then? They deemed you qualified to teach the subject, though?" Dorian asks. It should sound snarky, but he's leaning forward on Cullen's desk, chin on hand and smiling softly like Cullen's the most interesting person he's ever spoken to.

Cullen shrugs. "I was a Templar before…" he doesn't quite managed to say before what. "Chantry history is required knowledge. What I learned before was more than a little biased, I'm finding out."

"Templar. Well, that's…" Dorian trails off, suddenly transfixed by his own shoe.

"You can say it. Or ask it, if you have questions." Cullen has unfortunately gotten used to people prying and being horrified or disgusted when the subject comes up. Although officially the Templars have been disbanded for an entire Age, the events in Kirkwall revealed the Chantry never stopped using their so-called private army.

There's a long, uncomfortable pause. "It must be as awful as they say it is," Dorian finally says. It's not a question exactly, but he looks up and meets Cullen's eyes for the first time since the word 'templar' came up and Cullen feels obligated to answer with something.

Cullen considers the words -- Dorian's and his own -- carefully. "I was stationed at Kinloch Hold. When they finally moved me, it was to Kirkwall." He knows the twenty-four news stations had fed on the explosion and subsequent civil war in Kirkwall story for months, only barely moving on when the grisly details of the riot at Kinloch prison finally came out. What he doesn't know is what he's supposed to say now, to Dorian, after admitting his past. He's fairly sure that if Dorian can manage to meet his eyes again, Cullen won't get easy smiles and gentle banter, he'll get anger, if he's lucky, and fear if he's not.

Dorian laughs, the strained, almost pained laugh of someone who has heard far too much already. Cullen expects him to run out away, as fast as possible. He doesn't blame Dorian for it either. If he could run away from it, he would too.

"You know, I came here planning to warn you about how rotten some students can be, but I'm certain now that you can handle anything they throw at you," Dorian says, meeting Cullen's eyes again as he stands and straightens out the hem of his vest. "Good luck in classes, Professor. And come by the library any time."

Dorian hurries out of the office with only a brief glance back. In all, a very polite brush off, Cullen thinks. He's definitely experienced worse. It stings a little, finally feeling like maybe he could make a normal friend who's not only being friendly out of politeness or a sense of duty. Plus he knows he didn't imagine the flirting. What a way to spoil what almost could have been considered the precursor to a first date.

 

But no matter, Cullen thinks. It would have come out eventually. He can focus on his teaching, maybe inspire some students or learn something in return or something as equally cliché as flirting painfully with the attractive librarian.

* * *

He hasn't been avoiding the library exactly, but he hasn't had reason to go since he returned the textbook. Cullen has seen Dorian twice since their great, then suddenly unbearably uncomfortable conversation right before the semester started.

Once, Dorian walks by while Cullen is waiting for coffee at the cart outside the main campus doors. Dorian doesn't see him and so Cullen stares for long enough that the man at the cart has to poke him in his outstretched hand to give him his change. Cullen makes a hasty retreat to his office at that point, but the damage is done and he feels like a dolt all day, every time he thinks about the strong line of Dorian's shoulders under the navy blue jacket that sets off his skin.

And now, the second time. Cullen's walking by the library to get to Cassandra's office in the literature department and Dorian catches his eye through the big picture windows.

Cullen tries out a little smile, which Dorian returns, and then Dorian stamps his own hand instead of the papers on the desk and then tips over a water bottle with his elbow. Cullen ducks his head to hide his laughter and as annoyed as Dorian looks when Cullen glances back through the window, he spares a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"Maker Almighty," Cassandra says after she finally pries the story out of Cullen (it doesn't take long, she'd been a master interrogator, after all). "Are you going to see him again?"

Cullen sips his coffee and ponders how to say no without Cassandra eating him alive. She lives for overwrought romances and grand gestures and is really, really not good at taking no for an answer.

"I don't think so, Cassandra. He made it pretty clear --"

"Nonsense," she says, cutting him off with a snap and a wave. "What you just told me? Stamped his own hand? He's just as attracted to you as you are to him. You owe it to yourselves to have one date. If it doesn't work out, at least you tried. But you have to _try_ , Cullen."

Cullen wishes it wasn't so easy to make him blush. "I never said --"

"You noticed the colour of his jacket, Cullen. You never notice those things."

"I do too, I'm very --"

She closes her eyes. "What colour are my eyes? You've known me for almost fifteen years, if you're so naturally observant, you should definitely know that."

Cullen, of course, has no idea. "Blue?"

"Is that your best guess, or are you thinking about Dorian wearing the blue jacket again?"

"Dammit Cassandra," Cullen says, insteading of officially admitting defeat. She knows what he means though and opens her eyes to fix him with a piercing stare and only the barest trace of a smirk.

"I'm going," he says, downing the rest of his coffee. She smiles serenely and takes the empty cup.

* * *

Cullen isn't nervous. He's faced down things far scarier than asking someone on a date before. He faced things scarier just this morning when he woke up from a nightmare and stared himself down in the mirror after. That's probably not what he's going to say to Dorian though. He thinks of a way to invite Dorian out in a way that doesn't highlight his emotional issues. He practices it a few times on his walk over to the library.

"Dinner," he says, when he approaches the circulation desk. Okay. All right. Not the entirety of what he had planned, but his speech had included the word dinner, so he'd at least gotten some of it right.

"You're very welcome, glad I could help," Dorian says to the student stuffing books in their bag and giving Cullen a very 'what the fuck' look. The student leaves and Dorian turns his attention to Cullen.

"Pardon?"

Another chance, just what Cullen needs to sound like an intelligent, full grown adult human. He glances down and sees the dark ink on the back of Dorian's hand, resting on the desk. His throat goes dry.

"Dinner?" Not better.

Dorian blinks a few times, tilting his head. "Noun?"

"Suggestion," Cullen clarifies.

"Tonight?"

"Preferably."

Dorian shrugs apologetically.

Cullen heard himself repeat 'dinner' after being granted his second chance and felt his heart sink, and now he watches any hope he had of having a normal professional acquaintance with this man where they can just nod at each other politely through the plate glass library windows fly right out into space, never mind an actual friendship, or Maker forbid, an actual date.

"Working," Dorian says, after a moment, smiling strangely at Cullen.

"Ah," Cullen says.

"Tomorrow?"

"Oh." Not what Cullen had been expecting. "Fine, yes. Great."

"That was more than one word," Dorian points out.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"You're very charming, did you know that?" Dorian shuffles some papers, not breaking eye contact. "The ruffled hair, the intermittent inability to string a sentence together. Quite the picture."

Cullen chuckles, feeling again like when they talked in his office. Not off balance, just comfortable, like talking to Dorian was suddenly easy again. Meeting his eyes is easy too, they're such nice eyes. "Thank you, I do intermittently try."

Dorian scribbles something on a piece of scrap paper and slides it across the desk. Their fingers brush when Cullen reaches for it and a little thrill runs through him. He's hopeless, he knows, but Dorian's still grinning at him and maybe, he thinks, they're on equal ground.

"My number," Dorian says. "If you can forgive me for being an ass and running out of your office after you…"

"Dropped a ton of personal details on you at once. Yes, forgiven. Forgotten entirely sometimes soon, I hope."

"I'm lactose intolerant. It takes me more forty minutes every morning to get my hair this artfully tousled. I've not spoken to my parents in more than six years. How's that for personal details?"

"Amazing." Cullen stuffs the phone number into his pocket without looking at it, still not quite able to break the eye contact. Dorian appears to be facing a similar hardship.

"I have grading to do," Cullen says.

"I have cataloguing. Mountains of it, in fact."

Neither one of them moves right away. Finally, Cullen casts his gaze up, breaking the spell. They both chuckle, still smiling, half embarrassed, half anything but.

"Tomorrow, then."

Dorian nods. "And I have a few more questions about Divine Renata, in the beginning of the Glory Age."

"Renata the First?" Cullen groans. "I hope you like debating politics over dinner, because that's a lot of ground to cover."

"I love it, in fact. You should bring some reference texts. I'll bring the legal pad."

"It's a date," Cullen agrees. "A weird date."

Dorian beams.

**Author's Note:**

> So! Absolutely not what we matched on, but I was inspired. I am also wondering how we are not already friends because I definitely feel like we should be. I hope this fits the bill in some way or another <3


End file.
